


Pigs in Cardiff

by sanguinity



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Muppet Show, Pigs in Space, Torchwood
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Jack Harkness is more like Link Hogthrob than you might think, Jack Harkness is smitten, M/M, Miss Piggy is to be reckoned with, Tosh gets to have a fling and nobody dies, perfectly earnest crack, the Whoniverse is more like the Swineverse than you might think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Swinetrek falls through a Rift in Space and Time, Jack Harkness falls in love, and Miss Piggy finally gets some respect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Siren of Swinefleet

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely during the first half of Torchwood S2. Ample spoilers through 2x01; very slight AU thereafter. 
> 
> Technically, spoilers for half-a-dozen Pigs in Space sketches, but given that Pigs in Space barely has a plot, "spoiler" mostly means "I tell you a punchline." However, if this is of concern: spoilers for 205 "Mid-Course Correction"; 207 "Miss Piggy's Important Job"; 224 "Chopped Liver"; 305 "Snacko Waves"; 501 "The End of the Universe"; 512 "The Creature from the Crab Nebula". (Why yes, I did go back and watch every Pigs in Space sketch.)
> 
> Concerning "Chooses Not to Warn": a temporary Harkness death or two and some suicidal ideation from the Man Who Cannot Die. In all, a hella lot more lighthearted than your average Torchwood episode.
> 
> Huge thanks to Circadienne, Grrlpup, and Thevina, and to everyone who patiently spent a year listening to me rant about how Miss Piggy is WASTED in Swinefleet.

> **When we last left the _Swinetrek,_ our intrepid explorers had fallen through a Rift in Space and Time…**

Torchwood Three arrived at this scene to find that this time the Rift had coughed up a smoldering, bulbous, snout-nosed rocket, so retro that it must have already been an antique when it came off its own production line. Given the style of the rocket, Jack was completely unsurprised to find that its surviving crew was uniformed in the silver lamé favored by newly spacefaring species. However, what did surprise him (although only mildly), was that it was crewed by pigs. 

"Don't shoot," Tosh instructed Jack, guns drawn, as they approached the crash site. "I've seen this before. When those Raxicoricofallipatorians faked that alien invasion two years ago." 

"I read the brief," Jack nodded. He had remained in Cardiff for that, refusing to risk the timelines by meeting the Doctor early.

"They're not actually aliens," Tosh explained anyway. "Just common Earth pigs that have been retrofitted with technology to augment their brains. Harmless. Capable of feeling fear and pain, but no actual intelligence." 

One of the pigs, all mammalian humanoid curves poured into a lavender lamé minidress, tossed her mane of blonde curls and growled, _"Watch_ it, sister. I ain't common. And at least _I_ know intelligent life when I see it."

With the quicksilver ease that had been his way since he was ten, Jack Harkness fell in love. He holstered his gun. 

"Let me apologize for my colleague," he began, and the pig turned from glaring at Tosh. Her glance landed on Jack, and her breath caught with an audible _oh._ Jack grinned. Some days everything went right. "Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself, filling his words with invitation. 

With the poise of a silver screen starlet (and, oh, but Jack had enjoyed the 1930s), the pig stepped sinfully close to him and offered her hand. _"Mon capitaine,"_ she breathed. Somewhere behind her, one of the other two pigs made an outraged noise. 

Jack Harkness knew a cue when he was handed one. He took her hand and caressed her fingers with his thumb. _"Ma chérie."_ He leaned down to kiss her hand. She shivered. 

When Jack showed no sign of finishing up the hello, Tosh coughed for his attention. "Jack. There's a time and a place." 

"Oh, I _hope_ so," he murmured to his new amour, holding her intense blue gaze. "I sincerely hope so." She mewled quietly in pleasure. 

"Jack!" 

He kissed the pig's hand again, then flashed Tosh a pleased grin before turning to the other two pigs. The one in the satin cape appeared to be the senior officer. He carried himself like Dudley Do-Right and had a cleft in his chin so deep that Jack could have landed a Chula warship in it. Handsome enough, if you liked that sort of thing, but he didn’t do a thing for Jack. "Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood," Jack introduced himself. 

The pig nodded. "Captain Link Hogthrob of the USS _Swinetrek."_

Tosh giggled, and Jack shot back over his shoulder, “Did I ever tell you what your name means on Koozebane, Dr. Sato?” 

Hogthrob gestured at a small, gnarled pig beside him. “My science officer, Dr. Julius Strangepork. And you’ve already met First Mate Piggy." The resentment in the pig's voice at this last was clear. 

The first mate snuggled closer to Jack. Normally Jack didn’t like to come between couples (unless he was _coming between_ couples, as it were) but he wasn’t above inviting someone to ditch his or her date, if the date was enough of a blowhard. Captain Hogthrob struck Jack as just that sort of blowhard. 

"—and, of course," the captain continued, "the twenty-two loyal crewpigs of the _Swinetrek."_

Jack and Tosh glanced at each other. There were no other pigs present. Tosh eyed the smoldering remains of the _Swinetrek._ "You've got twenty-two crew members in there? And you didn't try to get them out?" She holstered her own gun and hurried toward the wreckage. 

Hogthrob turned to look back at his destroyed ship, clearly confused. It was a small ship, Jack noted. To carry a complement of twenty-five, it would need to be bigger on the inside. 

"Linky, Linky," the science officer soothed his captain. The first two pigs sounded like Americans, although they were probably no more American than Jack himself, but the science officer had an accent that Jack could identify only as not-exactly-German. "Zink now. You keep saying ve have twenty-five pigs on board, but haf you ever seen them? I don't zink zey exist." 

"But they promised me twenty-five…" 

"We've only ever had a crew of six, you twit," First Mate Piggy spat at her captain. "And the other three ate each other after we were bombarded by snacko waves. You would know that if you ever left the bridge." 

"Leaving the bridge is your job, First Mate Piggy." 

"Would the _first mate_ be doing the laundry if there was a _crew!?"_

"She would if she was the only woma— _Don't hurt me!"_

Jack leapt to intercept the first mate's lunge for her captain, and suddenly had his arms full of angry, thrashing pig. _Sexy,_ angry, thrashing pig. She felt every bit as good as Jack had imagined. 

"Jack!" Tosh called from near the wreckage of the ship. "It's too hot! I can't get in!" 

"Call Owen!" he shouted back. "We've either got casualties in there, or a head injury out here! _Oof!"_

"And _you!"_ the first mate yelled, trying to sink another elbow into Jack's solar plexus. _"You_ stop trying to cop a feel, you pervert!" 

 

Jack had been in love too many times to believe it any sort of grounds to trust someone, so he scanned the pigs, even the beautiful first mate (given Jack's track record, _especially_ the beautiful first mate) for alien weapons tech before taking them back to the Hub. Over Owen's protests, Jack assigned Hogthrob and Strangepork to Owen's SUV and gallantly ushered the first mate into his own vehicle. Tosh took a seat in the back. 

Jack amused himself on the drive back by trying to wheedle the first mate's given name from her. "You can't want me calling you 'First Mate Piggy.'" His voice dropped to an innuendo-rich purr. "Not all the time." 

Even Tosh blushed. "Nyota," she blurted. 

Jack glanced into the rearview at Tosh. "'Nyota'? Who are you, Rumpelstiltskin?" Still, he glanced across for the blonde's reaction. 

First Mate Piggy sniffed. "My name is not Nyota." 

"No, no, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, from _Star Trek,_ " Tosh explained. "She wouldn't give Jim Kirk her first name, because she thought he was a womanizer with an overinflated ego." She glanced meaningfully at Jack. 

Jack laughed. "I'll have you know my ego is in perfect proportion to my impressiveness." He leered at Tosh. "Just like everything else." Both women rolled their eyes. "'Nyota'. Pretty name. What's it mean?" 

Tosh shook her head. "'Shining Star.'" 

Jack grinned. "Pretty _and_ appropriate." He caught the blonde's eye. "N—" 

"If you think you're going to call me by another woman's name, buster, you've got another think coming." 

Jack laughed and thumped the steering wheel. "Well, then, until such time as you choose to gift me with your name, my dear Miss Piggy, 'Miss Piggy' it shall be." 

  

Jack, always the showman, took them in via the Plass lift. Much to Jack's satisfaction, Myfanwy flew a circuit of the room while they descended. When First Mate Piggy finished the obligatory initial round of _oohs_ and _ahs_ , Jack barked out orders to his team. "Ianto, I trust you've already started arrangements to secure their ship? Good. If Torchwood One comes sniffing around, keep them out. I don't want to know what mayhem they'd cause if they got their hands on an alien rocketship. Gwen! We'll need space in the hostel for three. Kits, too; they won't be able to salvage much more than what they're standing up in. Tosh, when Owen gets here, I want you to go with Dr. Strangepork. See if he's competent, then work with him to figure out where they came from. And tell Owen he'll need to run a full medical workup on our guests; he can start with Hogthrob." 

Ianto nodded, his face impassive. "And what will you be doing, Jack?" 

"Me? I'll be giving our guest a tour of the Hub." Jack flashed a grin. "Don't wait up." He put his arm around Miss Piggy and guided her away from the others. "Now over here is a nifty little device from the Crab Nebula—" 

Ianto waited until Jack was out of earshot. "Berk." 

"Oh, give him a break," Tosh said. "He's just on the pull." 

Gwen made a face. "Since when does Jack on the pull mean treating us like we won't know to wipe our own arses unless we're told?" 

"Since when does Jack on the pull mean putting in _effort?"_ Ianto asked. Jack and Miss Piggy were leaning together in an archway, his body bent over hers in silhouette. 

The three watched quietly for a few more moments. Gwen was the to finally voice what they were all thinking. "It's a _pig."_

"It's a pig," Ianto confirmed. 

"Jack is trying to pull a _pig,"_ Gwen repeated. 

Tosh rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's a pig! She's a very _nice_ pig." 

Gwen and Ianto slid doubtful glances at her. Tosh blushed. 

"Hot diggety dog!" a voice echoed from just inside the passage from the tourist office. "Vill you lookit zat!" Dr. Strangepork charged into the room well ahead of Owen and Hogthrob, heading straight for the rift manipulator. "Son of a gun, zat's the most _beautiful_ thing." 

"Get away from that!" Owen shouted, hampered in his pursuit of the science officer by Captain Hogthrob, who was droning through an elaborate story about once having been chased by something six feet tall, with tusks. 

"How does it vork?" Dr. Strangepork gazed up in wonder at the manipulator's central column. "Let's see, zis lever zhould--" 

"Excuse me, that's my cue," Tosh said, and hurried to prevent Dr. Strangepork from tearing an even larger hole into the fabric of time and space. 

  

Two hours later, Gwen wasn't even pretending to work. She leaned against her workbench, arms folded, and glared up at the balcony where Jack and Miss Piggy were leaning on a guardrail together. "Why doesn't he just take her down into the archives and get it over with?" 

Ianto didn't even glance up. "She's not that kind of pig." 

"She's just so fake! 'Oooh, Jack! Your rift manipulator is so _big!_ Oh, _Jack!'"_

"Oh?" Owen asked. "And what's your idea of genuine, Gwen Cooper? 'Oh, _Jack,_ I _couldn't,_ I have a boyfriend! Oh, _Jack!_ I have a fiancé! Oh, _Jack,_ I love him so _much!'"_ Gwen glared, but Owen continued, "Get off it. She thinks he's a stud. She wants him to bone her, and she's making sure he knows it. That, my dear Gwen Cooper, is as genuine as it gets." Owen smirked. "No wonder Jack is throwing you over for a pig." 

Gwen lunged for Owen, but found Ianto suddenly in the way. While they were untangling themselves—Gwen had the impression that Ianto was purposefully being a klutz about it, and roundly let him know her opinion of that—Jack bellowed down from the balcony, "Oi! Keep it down, down there! Gwen!" Gwen turned guiltily. "Do you not have enough to do? Or do I need to find you something?" 

Gwen glared. "Na, I'm good." She turned her back on Jack and the pig, and emphatically reshuffled her paperwork. 

Jack inspected Gwen's angry shoulders for a long moment, then turned his back to the Hub floor again and leaned back into the railing. He hooked a boot heel on the lowest rail, and smiled lazily at the pig beside him. "So, Beautiful. You've been around the galaxy a few times. Want to help me identify some aliens?"

Miss Piggy resettled her curls around her shoulders. "Oh, _oui, mon capitaine,"_ she purred. "Show me your aliens." 

  

Tosh was reviewing Hubble photographs with Strangepork, going over the standard set of astronomical objects that might be recognizable in other regions of space, when her emergency dispatch monitoring algorithms sang out for her attention. 

"Probable Weevil sighting in Splott," she announced, reviewing the information on her screens. 

Jack glanced toward Gwen, the direction on his lips, but Gwen already was reaching for her jacket. "I'll take it." 

Tosh shook her head slowly, still concentrating on her data. "They can't move that fast, that has to be two Weevils, at least." 

Gwen glanced at Ianto, who grinned and reached for his coat. "I'm taking Ianto with me, then." 

Tosh swore. "And now we've got an actual Weevil attack, not just a sighting. Be careful out there." 

Gwen nodded. "Keep me updated," she instructed, fitting her earpiece in. "We're off." 

Jack drifted over to Tosh's workbench, and watched her screens over her shoulder, monitoring her conversation with Gwen. Ten minutes later, it was his turn to swear. "Not just Splott. I'll take this one; you and Owen stay here with the pigs." 

The blonde pig at Jack's elbow nodded firmly. "Right. And I'm coming with you." 

Jack gave her a regretful smile. "Sorry, sweetheart. This is my planet, I'm responsible for your safety. You stay." 

Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm not letting _mon capitaine_ face down a Weevil alone." 

"I have plenty of experience with Weevils. You're unarmed and a third of a Weevil's size—" 

Hogthrob laughed nastily. "Hah! Don't underestimate her size, Captain Harkness." 

The first mate wheeled on Hogthrob, but Jack grabbed for her as Tosh interrupted, "And again, more than one Weevil at the second site." She sighed as new information came up on her screens. "And now a third incursion site, as well." 

"That's it," Owen declared. "All pigs downstairs into the vaults!" He grabbed Hogthrob and Strangepork by the shoulders and herded them ahead of him. "This is what holding cells were made for, folks." 

Miss Piggy evaded Owen's grab, and fixed her glower on Jack. "If you _think_ you're going to lock me up, buster, you can _kiss good-bye_ any hopes you ever had—" 

Jack threw her a quick glance. "Owen! The pigs are our guests. We're not locking them up." 

Owen pulled Strangepork away from a bit of alien tech that had just caught his eye. "You're not going to just let them prowl the Hub." 

"Perhaps we should ask Torchwood One for assistance, sir?" Tosh asked. "We were never staffed to handle two independent—" 

"No," Jack snapped. Torchwood One had been resurrected over Jack's strong objections—in his experience, organizations as big as Torchwood One, whatever their original intent, always grew into uncontrolled, world-destroying behemoths—and he wasn't about to tacitly approve the London branch's existence by requesting their help. "Pigs into the SUVs. They're coming with." 

Owen stared at him. "The Weevils will eat them alive." 

Miss Piggy sniffed. "Hardly. We are experienced Swinefleet officers. We have encountered far worse than mere Weevils." 

Hogthrob clung to Strangepork. "Yes, and those other things almost made us eat each other!" 

"At least arm them?" Tosh pleaded. 

"No. I'm not having someone accidentally shot by a panicking pig." 

Hogthrob made an indignant sound, but Strangepork patted his hand. "He haz a point, Linky. Remember the time you shot yourself with the invisibilification ray?" 

Jack rolled his eyes. "They'll stay in the SUVs while we—" 

"Oh, no. I am not leaving _mon capitaine's_ side!" Miss Piggy declared. The pig regally tossed her locks and stared Jack down. 

"Fine," Jack gritted out. "They can volunteer if they wish." 

"Yippee!" Strangepork shook off Owen and Hogthrob, and scurried over to where Tosh was packing her electronics. "I can help you vit the goodies!" He began pushing bits of intergalactic flotsam into her bags. "Oo, ve vill need one of zese, and one of zese, and _ooooh!_ A contra-gravity anti-mixomatic transponder!" 

"Oi!" Owen protested, when he saw that everyone had paired off, leaving him standing side-by-side with Hogthrob, "I am not partnering up with Captain Lard-for-Brains!" 

Jack grimaced. "Of course not, you're with Tosh. The pigs can join you two or not as they wish. Get a move on! We have Weevils to catch!" 

  

To Jack's pleased surprise, First Mate Piggy was born to hunt Weevils. She was fearless and crafty, fighting barehanded next to Jack in a flamboyant but competent variant of Venusian karate. 

"So how is it, exactly, that you ended up on a ship full of incompetents?" Jack asked, as they worked to take down a pair of Weevils. "You don't seem the type. Swinefleet the only game in town?" 

Between a feint and a parry, she found time for a shrug. "What, I don't strike you as the Pig and Country type? They don't exactly leave rocketships lying around spare. _Duck!"_

Jack obediently dropped, then laughed at the _whoosh_ of displaced air over his head, followed by the meaty _thunk_ behind him. He spun and came up again, driving the full force of his weight into the Weevil that was still staggering from First Mate Piggy's blow. He caught her eye as the Weevil went down; she smirked back. But his joy in the fight was short-lived; another group of Weevils entered the alley mouth behind her. 

"Incoming!" Jack shouted, glancing behind and above them. No ready exits. He pushed himself in front of the pig, meeting the lead Weevil with the final shot of his Weevil spray. It was long since useless as a Weevil repellant, but even a Weevil would flinch if you sprayed something in its eyes. The first Weevil recoiled, but the rest kept on, and then human and pig were swept apart under the onslaught. 

Jack had almost won through to First Mate Piggy's side—thankfully, she was holding her own against her two foes—when he misjudged a dodge and a Weevil claw tore into his abdomen. Jack howled in rage, redoubling his efforts to finish his own attackers, knowing from experience how this was about to go. Blood flooded warm down his side. From the feel of it, he was bleeding faster than he could possibly heal. He tried to stay on his feet through sheer force of will, but a few moments later, as too often happened, the biology won out: he dropped to one knee. 

Miss Piggy saw. _"Jack!"_ she screamed, and then again, _"Jack!"_ The Weevils besetting Jack turned toward Miss Piggy, momentarily distracted by her screams, and Jack used the distraction to take one out at the knees. Miss Piggy turned back on her attackers with renewed fury. 

Just before Jack passed out, he swore he saw the Weevils cower before her bright, glorious rage. 

  

Jack came alive again to find Miss Piggy crying over him in the now-deserted alley. "Jack!" she gasped, surprised by his sudden revival. 

Jack didn't give her time for questions, the energy of revivification surging through him, but threaded his hand into her blonde tresses and pulled her into a kiss. She came willingly, and that, too, was glorious. Miss Piggy moaned against his mouth—this pig who was fierce enough to make Weevils turn back in fear—and he wanted her. He staggered to his feet, bringing Miss Piggy with him, but paused when he stumbled over a crumpled body in a navy jumpsuit. Jack stopped, momentarily shocked into inaction. The Weevil was very dead. No significant blood, only blunt trauma damage. Jack glanced quickly around the alley: no apparent weapon. Miss Piggy had killed a Weevil with her bare hands. 

_"Mon capitaine,_ I thought you were dead!" Her desperate grasp on his arm brought him back to himself. He looked down into her worried eyes, and didn't care about dead Weevils anymore. 

"Flesh wound," he muttered, and then he had her up against the alley wall while she moaned into his neck. He had gotten no farther than remembering how much fun small partners could be—one barely needed the wall—when the cover to the storm drain behind him shot off. Twenty-foot-long tentacles erupted from the drain. 

Jack winced. "Oh, god. So that's why we’ve got Weevils every—" he began, and then they both were drenched in thirty kilos of tentacle-alien ejaculate. 

  

When Miss Piggy and Jack, exhausted and dripping from their pursuit of the tentacle alien through the drains, finally found a ladder to climb back to the surface, Miss Piggy was shocked to find herself better contented with a day chasing aliens through sewers than she had ever been aboard the dull security of the _Swinetrek._

Jack saw her bewildered expression and laughed. "Welcome to Torchwood, gorgeous. Want to do it all again tomorrow?" 

Miss Piggy sniffed and began climbing. "Perhaps. If _mon capitaine_ can promise _moi_ something more interesting than bitchy space calamari. _Une fille_ has standards." 

Jack swarmed up a few rungs, until Miss Piggy was tucked between his body and the ladder. "Oh, _mais oui."_ His voice dropped, and his breath brushed her ear. "Only a very foolish man would risk boring _mademoiselle."_

She permitted herself a shiver. He might well be one of the few who was more fun in the having than in the chase. "And are you a foolish man, _capitaine?"_

He gave her a brilliant grin. "Very." He winked. "But I've never been called boring." He reached up to shove open the drain cover above them. 

They emerged at the feet of her sorry excuse for a superior officer, his uniform still gleaming and his hair perfectly waved across his brow. He pointed at her and laughed. "Look at Piggy! Ha-ha! She looks like she got caught in a slime-o-matic's rinse cycle!" 

Miss Piggy's lip curled in a snarl, but the rat-faced human doctor grabbed Hogthrob by the neck and propelled him into an SUV. "Unlike the rest of us, you spent the last thirteen hours sniveling in fear under the back seat, so you can shut it." 

Hogthrob rushed from window to window inside the SUV, beating on the glass. "Let me out! Hey! Hey! Let me out!" 

"Child-safety locks?" Jack asked. 

Owen smirked. "As if. Too chicken to come back out here." 

Jack huffed a laugh. "Everyone alright?" His gaze ticked around the group. "Where are Gwen and Ianto?" Miss Piggy leaned back against the dashing, heroic captain— _her_ dashing, heroic captain—and tried to recall if she had ever seen a Swinefleet officer perform a headcount after a mission. Jack's hand came up to stroke her shoulder. 

The mousy human scientist answered, "They're already headed back to the Hub. Dr. Strangepork was brilliant, Jack. He came up with the scheme of using the contra-gravity module—" 

"Ach, no, but it vas Dr. Sato who had the inspired idea of reversing the polarity!" The science officer took the other scientist's hand and patted it. "Vitout her expertise vit the Rift—" 

Dr. Sato blushed and opened her mouth to reply, but Jack cut them both off. "I have every confidence you were both brilliant. But we'll save the briefing until we're all clean and fed. Are we done here?" 

At their assent, Jack steered Miss Piggy toward his SUV leaving the others to pile into Owen's. "Want to share a shower when we get back, _ma chérie?"_

Miss Piggy looked down at herself, wholly sticky with tentacle-snot. Her snout curled down in a involuntary moue of disgust. 

Jack laughed and peeled a crusted-over blonde lock off her uniform, letting it drop heavily behind her shoulder. "Don't fret, Beautiful. There's nothing sexier than watching a glamorous woman get right down into the nasty thick of it. Well, I say nothing sexier," he amended, and then leaned down and murmured into her ear several more things he was thinking of. To her horror, Miss Piggy felt herself blush—she! Miss Piggy! the extremely dangerous and very provocative Siren of Swinefleet! _blushing!_ Jack grinned knowingly. "C'mon. I won't even make you flip a coin for the first shower," he coaxed, and handed her up into his SUV. 

  

One shower and blow-dry later—what she wouldn't have given for a bubble bath—and Miss Piggy felt something like herself again. Jack had given her one of his clean shirts for a robe, and with some determined folding, tucking, and rolling, she had gotten it to reveal just the right amount of cleavage and thigh. She could make allowances for wild, passionate sex in dirty alleyways—there was a certain _frisson,_ after all, to having just escaped death together—but as a rule, she insisted on a little glamour with her passion. She arranged her curls artfully around her shoulders: it was the best she could do, given the meager resources available. 

She had just posed herself on the edge of Jack's desk, ready for the moment when he finished his own shower, when the poof who made the coffee came in. He paused inside the door. "Oh. My apologies. I wanted to get your and Jack's things before the stains set." 

She narrowed her eyes. _"You_ do the laundry?" 

"Not as such, but sometimes I take things to the cleaners." 

"Ianto is the only one who knows how to make the cleaners get the goo out properly," Jack offered from behind her, damp and half-dressed. "Not to mention the blood. Alien blood is the worst. Especially the green kind." 

Ianto gave him a polite smile. 

"And you make the coffee." Miss Piggy glanced toward the boardroom: the two human women, dimly visible through two thicknesses of glass, were laying out the takeaway. "Not them. _You."_

"Why would they make the coffee?" Jack asked. "They make terrible coffee." 

Ianto made a face. "They don't care enough to bother making it well." 

"It's the way of the world, Ianto. Those who care the most get stuck doing the work." Jack came around the desk to hand Ianto his and Miss Piggy's discarded clothing. It had already gone rigid with dried gunk. 

Ianto made a face as he took the items. "That explains so much, really." 

Miss Piggy continued to study Ianto. "And you do the _laundry."_

"Not everyone's laundry," Ianto corrected. "Most people do their own. I just send out the more," he paused, "challenging items." 

"You send out all of my laundry," Jack teased. 

Ianto cut him a glance. "You have special privileges." 

Miss Piggy's gaze flicked between Ianto and the distorted shadows of the two women in the boardroom. She barely felt Jack run his knuckle down her spine, and only distantly heard him instruct Ianto to let everyone go ahead and eat without them, that he and Miss Piggy would raid the leftovers later. Ianto left, carrying the Swinefleet uniform that would have cost her days of effort to get clean again, had she been aboard the _Swinetrek._

And on the _Swinetrek,_ it wouldn't have been only her own uniform she would have been stuck cleaning, either. 

Her shoulders settled in resolve. No matter what happened with the dashing captain, she would stay here at Torchwood. Never again would she set foot on that swill-dripping excuse for a rocket ship. 

Not if she had to torch the last battered remnants of the _Swinetrek_ herself.


	2. Sheep Don't Work for Torchwood

Jack, barefoot and bare-chested, was scavenging through the takeaway remains in the half light of the darkened boardroom when Ianto placed a silver tray on the table with a sharp _snick._ "Ianto!" Jack crowed. Ianto hushed him, nodding his head at the two snoring pigs at the edge of the room. "Ianto," Jack stage-whispered, and snatched up one of the three steaming mugs of coffee. "You truly are a demigod among men!" 

"Oh, I hope not. They all came to tragic ends." Ianto claimed a mug for himself, then stepped back a half-pace. Jack smelled even more strongly of sex than he usually did, and while it was always a good smell on Jack, that and his manic energy were making the generously-sized conference room feel small. 

"Is there a demigod of coffee? Demitasse, demijohn. There should be a demigod of coffee." Jack drained half his mug in a single swig, and Ianto winced. He could only presume that whatever protected Jack from death also protected him from burns. "Ravenous. Dying always takes it out of me." 

"I wondered, when I saw your clothes." Jack's deaths bothered Ianto—sometimes, in his darker moods, Jack even appeared to seek them out—but Ianto generally endeavored to not let his distress show. 

Jack flashed him a sympathetic look, nonetheless. "I wasn't as careful with the Weevils as I might have been. You been here all night?" 

"Someone had to keep an eye on our guests. I sent the others home." 

Jack nodded, still intent on the food in front of him. He was ostensibly building a plate, but most of the food went into his mouth instead. "They settle in okay?" 

Ianto smirked. "Hogthrob fell asleep in his plate. It would seem that cowering in an SUV for twelve hours is unspeakably exhausting. Tosh and Strangepork were up late discussing improvements to the anti-Weevil spray, but once Tosh went home, he settled in quickly enough." 

"A working anti-Weevil spray would be nice." 

"Yes." Ianto watched Jack eat for a bit, then nodded at the unclaimed mug. "And Herself?" 

Jack grinned lazily. "Still asleep. She had a rough day yesterday." 

Ianto shrugged. "An ordinary day at Torchwood." 

"To be fair, she survived a spaceship crash, too. And got stranded out of her time. That has a way of knocking one back a few steps. But you should hear some of her stories! An ordinary day on the _Swinetrek_ sounds a lot like an ordinary day at Torchwood. But weirder." He gestured with his chopsticks at Ianto for emphasis. "Definitely weirder." 

"Weirder," Ianto repeated doubtfully. 

Jack grinned. "You should spend some time with her. Take her shopping today. You'd like her." 

Ianto grimaced, less convinced than Jack of the transitivity of affection. "So we can presume then that this wasn't a one-night fling?" 

Jack paused, considering the question. "No, I suppose not." He smirked at Ianto, but catching Ianto's expression, his smile grew fond. "Don't be like that." He cupped his hand around the younger man's jaw and leaned in for a kiss. A moment later he pulled back, stroking his thumb across Ianto's cheek, the touch rasping slightly. "You taste like you haven't slept enough." 

Ianto dropped his eyes, and Jack laughed softly. "I want to get back before she wakes up." He began gathering plate and utensils onto the tray, then hesitated over his empty coffee cup. 

"Take mine," Ianto offered, placing his own mostly full cup on the tray and taking the empty one from Jack. 

  

Jack scowled in irritation at the _Swinetrek_ captain seated across from him. "I'm considerably less interested in where you've been, than in where you originated from." Jack's contented buzz from his night with the first mate was already a distant memory: no good mood was robust enough to survive an interview with the fatuous blowhard that captained the _Swinetrek_. Even the pig's uniform set Jack's teeth on edge. 

Hogthrob settled placidly back into his chair. "And then there was the time we went to…" The pig paused to spin out the non-existent drama, "…the End of the Universe!" 

Jack snorted. "Who hasn't?" 

The pig frowned. 

"And if you did," Jack continued, "you spent the whole time hiding under your console." 

Hogthrob pulled his dignity tightly around himself. "Of course I did no such thing. It was the dinner hour." At Jack's doubtful look, the pig pressed on, "We had swill stroganoff. I could never forget a thing like that." 

"You're not having me on. You honestly have no idea what galaxy you originate from, do you?" 

Hogthrob shifted uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. "And then there was the time—" 

"You've just been wandering around the universe, lost, all these years. No, not even lost! Lost implies that you were making an effort!" 

Hogthrob drew himself up to his full height. "Everyone knows where Swinland is. It circles that one star that's next to the blinky thing." 

A _"Hiiiiiiiiii-yah!"_ reverberated through the Hub, punctuated by a _thud_ and the bright _clang_ of steel clattering across concrete. With a sigh of relief, Jack pushed back from his desk, happy for any excuse to cut off the interview, even one that involved Owen. 

Hogthrob trailed close on the other captain's heels, chanting, "Piggy's gonna get in trouble! Piggy's gonna get in trouble!" 

Out in the main work area, Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto were bent over Ianto's stopwatch. "Eleven minutes, seventeen seconds," Ianto announced. Gwen grimaced; Tosh looked smug. 

"Piggy's gonna get in trouble!" Hogthrob informed them as he and Jack went by. 

Gwen scoffed. "Oh, hardly. It's Owen. Ianto _shot_ Owen once. Didn't even get a slap on the wrist for that." 

Determinedly ignoring his entourage of rubberneckers, Jack swung through the arched entryway of the autopsy theater. Down in the pit, Miss Piggy quivered with rage, looming over Owen. Owen pressed his body back up the theater wall, keeping a wary eye on the pig. Jack sauntered down the stairs to the pit floor; the remaining three humans and two pigs shuffled themselves around the gallery rail, jostling for space. 

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels, affecting boredom. "So, what now?" 

"I am _not_ a _sheep!"_ Miss Piggy exclaimed. 

Jack raised an eyebrow at Owen. 

Owen gave an aggrieved sigh, removed a glass vial from a rack, and shoved it at Jack's face. "Look at that, Jack. Just look at it." 

Jack complied, bemused. "It's a test tube. With, ah, liquid in it." 

"They're _pigs,_ Jack. They're just common, terrestrial, farm pigs." 

"I told you before, buster—" Miss Piggy menaced. 

"A proud and humble profession, farming," Captain Hogthrob intoned above them. 

"All right, so?" Jack asked, raising his voice enough to cut them both off. 

"The DNA doesn't lie, Jack. Hell, they're more pig than you're human!" 

"That's hardly fair," Jack began. "I'm as human as—" 

"My parents had a small farm in Iowa," Hogthrob droned. "It was there that I learned the impor— _ow!"_ Gwen moved away from Hogthrob, grimly innocent. 

"Oh, of course you don't get it," Owen sneered. "They're _animals."_ At Jack's blankly helpful look, Owen continued with distaste, "I work for a sheep-shagger." 

The effect on Jack was electric; even those behind him along the rail saw it. 

"People," Jack said quietly. "I fuck _people._ Animal—and I would expect a medical doctor to know that humans are animals, Owen, even in this benighted age—animal, vegetable, or mineral, everyone I fuck are all _people._ I don't fuck _sheep,_ because _sheep are not people—"_

"Actually," Dr. Strangepork began, "I know a very nice—" 

"—except wherever it is that these three came from," Jack finished smoothly. Not breaking eye contact with Owen, Jack held out a hand to Miss Piggy. "I believe you are done here. If need be, I'll have Dr. Jones in from UNIT to finish up." 

Miss Piggy tossed her curls and flounced up the stairs. Jack followed. 

"— _mineral?"_ Gwen asked, after the two left. Ianto shrugged. 

"Soooo," Tosh prompted, "Eleven minutes?" 

Ianto reached inside his jacket; Gwen reached into her hip pocket. "I don't know why we even let her in the pool anymore," Gwen groused, as she peeled off a note. 

"When you have invested as much time as Tosh in acquiring intimate knowledge of the myriad ways that Owen is a shit, I'm sure you'll start winning the pool sometimes, too," Ianto comforted her. "I find it's worth ten pounds to know that Owen hasn't completely taken over my brain yet. No offense, Tosh. Change for a twenty?" 

Tosh gave Ianto the bill she had just received from Gwen in exchange for his twenty. She turned expectantly to Owen. 

"I don't see why I should have to pay," Owen said, "when I'm the one who always gets hit." 

Tosh smiled sweetly. "But you don't have to get hit. The day you don't get hit during the exam of a live person, Owen, that's the day we’ll pay you." She held out her hand. 

Making a face, Owen reached into his pocket. 

  

Captain Hogthrob circled Jack, evaluating his person carefully. 

Jack sighed. "While I'm normally flattered to be given the once-over—or even the thrice-over!—by an officer in uniform, I have to say, Hogthrob, you're really not my type." 

Hogthrob ignored him. "Right," he declared, turning to Ianto, "I want to see _your_ tailor." Gwen stifled a giggle, while Ianto blandly inspected the ceiling. 

"You're not seeing anyone's tailor," Jack replied. "You're going to Howell's, like everyone else." He glanced at Gwen and Ianto. "I don't have time for this. Will you two just get them out of here already?" 

Still snickering, Gwen urged Hogthrob toward the tourist office exit, where Strangepork was inspecting the machinery of the rolling door. 

"And Gwen?" Jack called after them. "Don't let them blow up Howell's!" 

  

Only one shopper looked twice when three uniformed pigs entered Howell's. She blinked hard at the small group before muttering to herself and returning to her shopping. Ianto smirked, proud of what his hometown would take in stride, accustomed as it was to the twin influences of the Rift and the film industry. 

To their relief, Dr. Strangepork was simple to shop for, distracted by the inner workings of the elevator panel and absently approving everything selected for him. Miss Piggy, however, had opinions. Where she had managed to find so much stretch lamé among the racks, neither human was sure. 

"If we ever need someone to masquerade as a space hooker for a cunning plan, we'll be set," Ianto commented. "Assuming Jack doesn't jump at the chance first, that is." 

Gwen grabbed Ianto's shoulder and hauled him away from Miss Piggy. _"Ianto Jones!"_ she hissed. "She's not from here! I hope to God that the locals show you more compassion, if you ever have the misfortune to get stuck on the wrong side of the Rift." She turned her back on Ianto and approached the pig, all smiles. "It's a flattering cut, Miss Piggy, but perhaps you'd be more at ease in something that's just a _wee_ bit more…" 

Ten minutes of rising tension later, there was a muffled scream from the dressing room, and Gwen emerged, disheveled and agitated. 

_"And stay out!"_ Miss Piggy yelled. 

"I don't know what to do, she won't let me do a thing with her," Gwen complained to Ianto. 

Ianto plucked up a handful of hangers he had gathered onto a nearby rack. "Why should she? You're trying to steal her man." He grinned. "Your turn to babysit Professor Weird." 

"I am engaged to Rhys!" Gwen protested. 

"As you say." Ianto knocked on the dressing room door. "Miss Piggy? I found some things you might like…" 

It was a long and exhausting two hours, but when they were done, Ianto had talked Miss Piggy into some smartly fitted pantsuits with a retro-futuristic flair. They were the sort of thing that Gwen could imagine Miss Piggy having selected for herself, if the pig had been fluent in local fashion. Gwen nodded her approval, duly impressed. "Oh, you're good, Ianto. I should have come to you when I was picking my wedding dress." 

Ianto accepted the compliment, and showed her the clothes' care label. "Also suitable for Weevil-hunting." 

Gwen cut him a startled glance. "Why? What did Jack tell you?" 

Ianto shook his head. "Nothing. But their ship isn't going anywhere, and you know how Jack is." 

Gwen did know; Torchwood Three was essentially a collection of Jack's crush-objects. Jack would hit on almost anyone, but it was a much smaller set of people whom he still wanted to keep around the next day. Miss Piggy, to Gwen's dismay, appeared to be one of them. It was a toss-up whether Owen or Miss Piggy would be worse to work with. 

"And likewise suitable for taking over the world," Ianto added. At Gwen's look, Ianto smirked, "Well, she _is_ an alien, after all." 

Gwen eyed the pig, who was striking corporate-takeover poses in front of the tri-fold mirror. "I shudder to think." 

Unfortunately, Hogthrob had even stronger opinions than his first mate. He flatly refused to try on anything at all, and no assurances of in-shop alterations would sway him. "The clothes make the officer!" he declared. "Would I have ever made lieutenant, without having taken such great care with my tailoring?" 

Gwen stifled a laugh when Ianto mildly agreed that yes, his tailor was surely the only reason he had made lieutenant. 

When the two finally folded and took him to Ianto's tailor—Ianto promising Gwen that Jack would make good on the expense—they discovered why Hogthrob had been so stubborn: Howell's didn't sell Swinefleet uniforms. "I am here on this planet as a proud representative of Swinefleet," Hogthrob declaimed, "and even if I should never be able to return to Swinefleet, I will wear the Swinefleet uniform with pride and honor until my dying day, never forsaking—" 

The tailor glanced to Ianto and, at Ianto's nod, set about his business, correctly surmising that Hogthrob could be declaiming for a while. 

"…and that is why I shall never forswear the proud, proud garb of a captain of the Swinefleet!" Hogthrob finally wound up. "Never, that is, until the day it might be my fortunate and humble honor to don the uniform of a Swinefleet rear admiral!" 

Struck by a thought, Hogthrob turned to the tailor. "Say, can you do an admiral's uniform? Lots of braid—braid _everywhere_ —and the cape a foot longer." He smiled dreamily. "With _swooshy_ bits." 

  

When the pigs returned to the Hub, Jack was reluctantly reviewing the dossiers of the management of Torchwood One, the stack of files that Ianto had plunked on Jack's desk that morning being Ianto's latest unsubtle nudge to get Jack to take the reins of the London office.

Jack heard the pigs' return before his office door opened; from Owen's shouting, Jack surmised that Dr. Strangepork was interested in one of Dr. Harper's experiments. By the time Miss Piggy swirled into Jack's office—she didn't knock, correctly confident of her welcome—Jack was already rising from his desk to meet her. _"Mon capitaine!"_ she cried. "Did you miss me?" 

_"Ma chérie,"_ Jack grinned at her, "it's been _hours."_ He twirled her into a pirouette so that he could inspect her new clothes. "Oh, but I do like a well-cut suit. So rumpleable, suits." Ianto had come in quietly behind Miss Piggy, and Jack caught his eye above Miss Piggy's head. _Thank you,_ Jack mouthed. Ianto nodded. 

Tossing her curls, Miss Piggy boosted herself up onto the corner of Jack's desk, to be more of a height with the two men. "We'll see about that, big boy," she purred. 

"Jack, a word?" Ianto asked. 

With a lingering smile for Miss Piggy, Jack followed the younger man to the other end of the office, just beyond Miss Piggy's easy hearing. "…and you just let him?" Jack asked. Ianto's reply was too quiet to hear. Bored, Miss Piggy turned her attention to Jack's desk. One of the folders was open to a photo of a woman in an elegant black suit, with long blonde curls much like Miss Piggy's own. Even in the photo, the woman's gaze commanded the observer, confident of her own dominion. _Yvonne Hartman._ Miss Piggy flipped farther into the file, but had only found the woman's personnel summary—which ended with _deceased_ —when Jack huffed in frustration. "Get Hogthrob and Strangepork in here," he directed Ianto, returning to his desk and Miss Piggy. 

"Who's Yvonne Hartman?" Miss Piggy asked Jack. 

Jack glanced at Miss Piggy, then at the open file on his desk. He shut the file, putting it out of her reach. 

Miss Piggy pursed her snout, but whatever she would have said was cut off as the door opened to admit two squabbling pigs, Ianto following. 

"Enough," Jack snapped. "Have a seat. We need to talk about what happens next. I visited your ship this morning—" 

"Without us?" Hogthrob interrupted. 

"—and I regret to say that it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Or, more accurately, ever." 

"You don't haf the expertise to make zat decision. The _Swinetrek_ is far more advanced than anything you have on zis—" 

"It has a delphinium drive," Jack interrupted. "I'm familiar with the technology." 

Dr. Strangepork paused, re-evaluating Jack. "How can you know zat?" 

"But you're correct that this planet doesn't have the tech to get it running again." 

Dr. Strangepork shrugged. "Ve can teach your space engineers." He glanced around the Hub, making mental calculations. "It vill take a few years to get you up to speed, but it vill be a lucky break for you." 

"But the Swine Directive!" Hogthrob interjected. 

"Zat is only for zings ve didn't vant to do anyvay," Dr. Strangepork reminded him. 

"No," Jack returned. "I decide what tech leaves Torchwood. It's bad enough that you're here; I won't allow you to disrupt the timeline further." 

"We don't need a working drive," Hogthrob declared loftily. "You could just push us back into the Rift, back to where we came from. I and my officers, Dr. Strangepork and First Mate Piggy, can take it from there." 

"Oh, no you don't, you knucklehead," Miss Piggy interjected. "I'm not getting back on that ship. Not on your life or mine." 

"You are an officer of the _Swinetrek,"_ Hogthrob blustered, "I can have you court-martialed for insubordination!" 

"It's a moot point," Jack interrupted. "The Rift goes one way. Things come out; they can't go in." 

"Zat's ridiculous," Strangepork scoffed. "Of course it goes both vays!" 

"—but even if it did, I wouldn't let you risk destabilizing it by shoving something as large as a spaceship into it. Why do you think we suddenly had an fifty-foot long space-squid in the sewers of Cardiff, the day you arrived?" 

"Ach, it's only a teensy-veensy ship!" 

"So happy to know that you're willing to risk my planet for your convenience, Dr. Strangepork." 

"Vit proper mitigation—" 

"You're proposing a suicide mission. If you go in, you have no control over where or when you come out, and without a drive, you'll be a sitting duck when you get there." 

Hogthrob pulled himself to his full height. "We are Swinefleet," he declaimed. "We are Swinedom's finest. We can handle anything on either side of the Rift, and if Torchwood is not hospitable enough to get the _Swinetrek_ flying again, we will find someone who is!" 

Jack sighed. "As much as I would love to let you do that," he said, glancing at Ianto, "that is just not happening, gentlemen. We don't have the funds to make your ship spaceworthy—" 

"Funds are not a problem," Dr. Strangepork suggested. "Ve're spacepigs from the future! Ve could put on a variety show—" 

"No," Jack interrupted. "Dear gods, no. Over my dead body." 

"You should keep your acts down to three or four minutes," Ianto suggested. "He revivifies quickly nowadays." 

Jack flashed a glare at Ianto. "Fine. I will be happy to allow you to work on the ship, as time permits. If you can get it flying—and you won't—you may then do as you wish. However, as a matter of security, you won't be allowed access to your ship without someone from my team present." 

"That's an outrage!" Hogthrob protested. "It's my ship!" 

"No, it is Torchwood's ship. If it's alien, it's ours. Feel lucky that I'm letting you have any access at all. In the meanwhile, I suggest you get used to being in Cardiff." He circled behind his desk. "That will be all, Captain Hogthrob." 

Hogthrob stood, his cape fluttering slackly about his elbows, then bowed stiffly to Jack. "Captain Harkness." He paused at the door, looking back. "First Mate Piggy?" he summoned. 

Miss Piggy sniffed and lounged further back on Jack's desk, pointedly ignoring the other two pigs. When the door closed behind the other two _Swinetrek_ officers, she turned to Jack. "I should get used to being in Cardiff, _mon capitaine?"_

Jack smiled. "There are other place. But Cardiff is used to weird." 

"So, what does _une fille_ need to do to get hired on _avec vous?"_

Jack smirked. "Ah, now that's tricky. We're a secret organization. No academy, no application process. Only way to get hired on at Torchwood is to be invited by a unit leader." 

_"Oui?"_ Miss Piggy simpered. 

Jack grinned. "Lucky for you, you just happen to know one." 

  

From Ianto's balcony, Gwen and Ianto watched Tosh rework a bluetooth earpiece that had never been designed to fit a pig's ear. Tosh and Miss Piggy chatted comfortably while she worked. Tosh didn't seem to mind the pigs, treating them with the same shy warmth that she extended to Gwen and Ianto. 

"How do you put up with it?" Gwen asked Ianto. 

He raised his eyebrows at her. "With what?" 

"With _that,"_ she elaborated, nodding at the pig. "With Jack. With him always…" Jack stepped out of his office, grinning behind a pair of safety glasses and twirling another pair in his hand. He gestured for Miss Piggy to come join him. "Oh, God save us all," Gwen breathed, "he's going to teach her to shoot." 

Ianto smirked. "God save _you._ Tenner says he sends her out with you first." 

"Uh-uh. No bet. You have undue influence with him." 

Ianto smirked. _"That's_ how." 

  

Miss Piggy, tucked up tightly against Jack's body, had never been happier in her life. One of Jack's hands rested lightly on her waist, steadying her as she stood on the low platform he had drummed up from somewhere, while he leaned in close over her shoulder, all warm breath and delicious smells, sighting down her arm to the target. She wriggled closer to him, feeling his laughter rumble against her body. 

Yvonne Hartman, Tosh had told her, had been the previous director of Torchwood. The _director._ Even Jack had taken orders from Yvonne Hartman. 

And now Miss Piggy was learning to shoot. She. Miss Piggy. Who back on the _Swinetrek_ hadn't even been allowed to do the simple, straightforward job she had spent years in academy for. 

Miss Piggy _loved_ Torchwood. She sighted down her arm toward the paper Weevil target, exhaled gently, and squeezed. 

  

Gwen should have taken the bet: Miss Piggy was sent out with Owen. He complained bitterly about being sent on an unnecessary milk run just to nursemaid Jack's new piece, and got himself karate-chopped in the outer passage. Two hours later, Owen and Miss Piggy returned to the Hub, Owen now complaining bitterly about milk runs that were never milk runs and how Jack's new piece couldn't follow even the simplest instruction. 

Miss Piggy sniffed. _"You've_ never seen sentient chopped liver before, you planet-bound fathead. Leave the giving of orders to someone who knows what she's doing." She plonked a small device in the center of Jack's desk. "It had a handheld translator." With a self-satisfied smile, she scooted herself up onto what was fast becoming her customary place on the edge of Jack's desk. 

"Oh, looky lookit!" Dr. Strangepork rushed forward. "I've never seen one so small!" Dr. Strangepork snatched it from Jack's hand and turned it over to inspect it. Jack raised his eyebrows, amused, but let the device go. 

"It's taken some damage," Tosh commented, taking it from Strangepork, "but perhaps we can jury-rig it with the remains of the one from your ship—" 

"Och, yes! At the very least, Dr. Sato, ve should be able to boost the speed of your translation program…" The two wandered away, heads together, Tosh already prying at the device's casing with her pocket warranty voider. 

"It was attempting mind control with telly jingles," Owen groused. "I've still got the earworm." 

"Fortunately," Miss Piggy preened, "he had _moi_ there to save him. Between _moi's_ quick thinking and excellent singing voice—" 

"Arias. She thinks she can sing arias." 

"—I was able to shatter the translator—" 

"Not the only thing she shattered." 

"And it saved your skin, didn't it?" Miss Piggy growled. Ianto stepped back from the probable path between Miss Piggy and Owen. 

"The only thing I can hear is the washing powder jingle that your chopped liver alien left in my head, because you screeched right into my eardrum—" 

"You have no appreciation for art," Miss Piggy sniffed. _"Moi_ had a brilliant career on the concert stage before joining the Academy." 

"If it was so brilliant—" 

Jack held up his hands. "Where is the alien now?" 

Owen shrugged. "She deafened it, I shot it, it went back into the Rift." 

"Hah!" Hogthrob shouted, breaking through the circle and pointing at Jack. "Hah! You said the Rift only went one way! You said you couldn't go back into the Rift!" 

"I said that it destabilizes the Rift. And that you wouldn't _live._ Also, that you don't have a ship to do it in." 

"This is piracy! I have fallen among pirates!" 

Jack rolled his eyes. "We've had this discussion. You're stuck here in Cardiff. Find something to do with yourself other than hanging around the Hub brooding." 

Hogthrob's eyes widened. Turning on his heel, he flounced out of the Hub. 

_"Jack!"_ Gwen hissed. "He's lost everything!" 

"Occupational hazard." Jack's tone was casual, but his face and body were tight. "You set out to adventure in space and time, that's exactly the kind of thing that happens. He should have thought of that before he joined the Agency." 

"Swinefleet," Ianto coughed. 

"That's as may be, Jack," Gwen pressed, "but all the more reason not to be cruel about it." 

_"He's not my problem._ And if you want to be a bleeding heart about it, that's not my problem, either." 

Gwen gave Jack a last look of disgust, and left to pursue Hogthrob. 

  

"Oh, _Jaa-ack,"_ Miss Piggy cooed, as she approached the hatch in Jack's darkened office. _"Mon capitaine!"_ She had gone back to her rooms at the hostel to change—her hair and clothes had reeked of liver—and the Hub had been dark when she came back. Jack, it seemed, had gone to bed without her. 

Several rungs down the ladder into Jack's sleeping quarters, she turned her head to see not one man on Jack's bed, as she had expected, but two. Ianto was… Her brain refused to process what Ianto was doing, but Jack was doing it right back. "You get your hands off him!" she shrieked, jumping from the ladder. _"Hiiiiiiiiiiiii— oof!"_

She found herself pinned between the wall and a hundred and eighty pounds of angry, naked Jack Harkness. She thrashed, screeching about what she would do to them both, while Jack shouted at her to stop struggling. Ianto rolled off the far side of the bed and reached for his trousers. 

"You _better_ run, you coward! I'll tear you in half!" Miss Piggy screamed at him, flailing harder. Miss Piggy was strong for her size, but Jack had her at a mechanical disadvantage. She bucked again, trying to get enough leverage to shove him off of her. 

"Ianto, stay," Jack panted. 

Ianto's brows shot up, but he slowed in his dressing. 

"Miss Piggy…," Jack tried, having some trouble keeping her pinioned against the wall, but not daring to let her go. _"Miss Piggy…!_ Damn you, will you just—?" 

"And _you,_ Captain Jack Harkness, you lying, duplicitous scumbag—" 

"I have _never—"_ Jack gritted. 

"—when I get off this wall and get my hands on you, you'll be sorry you were ever born!" 

Jack gave up talking. Miss Piggy continued to rail, but Jack kept his weight heavy against her, letting her exhaust herself. Eventually she subsided into angry panting. 

"I have two—" Jack began, but Miss Piggy took that as reason to start fighting again. He waited until she had subsided a second time. "I have two things to say," he tried again. 

She glared at him. 

"Good. First, you have to stop telegraphing your strikes, it's going to get you killed one of these days. Whatever happens after tonight—" Miss Piggy twisted, trying to shove him off her again; Jack waited until she was done. "Whatever happens after tonight, promise me, you'll find someone to spend some time in the dojo with you, fixing that. Promise me." Miss Piggy scowled at him, but Jack held her gaze. "Piggy, this is important, _promise me."_

Looking away, Miss Piggy snarled her assent. 

"Good." Jack waited a moment, but Piggy stayed still. Jack straightened up, gently setting her down from the wall. She muttered to herself, resettling her hair, making a show of not listening. "I'd like that person to be me. I hope it's me, you deserve a better teacher than whoever you had. But I don't know if it _will_ be me—" Miss Piggy glanced at him, "because, and this is the second thing: _Ianto is my lover, too."_ Miss Piggy's eyes narrowed. Jack crossed his arms, falsely casual. "I'd never slight you for him, Miss Piggy. But I'm not going to slight him for you, either." 

Miss Piggy shot a glare over Jack's shoulder to Ianto, expecting to see triumph in the younger man's eyes. Instead, Ianto looked back at her with a quiet sadness. Not even pity—she would have torn his throat out for daring to _pity_ her—but sympathy. _Empathy._ Miss Piggy gritted her teeth and looked away. 

"It's _Jack,"_ Ianto said quietly, as if that explained everything. He straightened his cuffs, not looking at either of them. "No fidelity whatsoever. But loyal, in his way." 

Jack grinned, taking that for a compliment, but Ianto refused to look at him, reaching for his tie. Jack's grin went hollow. He turned back to Miss Piggy. "That's the way it is. You don't have to like it—and if you don't like it, you know where the door is—but if you're going to stick around Torchwood, you have to live with it." 

Miss Piggy sniffed. "I'll have you know, I do not _need_ Torchwood. There's a whole _world_ waiting out there for _moi."_

Jack nodded amiably. "As you prefer. If you decide to leave, let me know. Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning." 

Miss Piggy inhaled in shock. 

Jack cocked a brow. "Unless you'd rather stay for the night? Always up for a threesome." 

Miss Piggy shot a glance back to Ianto. He was fully dressed now, contemplating the line where the wall met the ceiling, his unhappiness radiating off of him. For an instant she was tempted to call Jack's bluff just to force Ianto's hand, to make _him_ do something rash and intolerable, to make Jack speak to _him_ in this insufferable manner. 

But there was the precedent of it. She would not be treated like this, not even on a bluff, not even to get revenge on Ianto. She tossed her hair and went to the ladder. "Well! I never!" 

"No?" Jack asked. "You should try it sometime. You might like it." 

Miss Piggy turned back at the top of the ladder. "I'll show you, Jack Harkness. Oh, you think you can get rid of me, but I'll get even with you for this. I'm _staying!"_ She slammed the hatch shut with a _clang_ that reverberated throughout the Hub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Gwen: _[mineral](http://archiveofourown.org/works/165017)_.


	3. Never Underestimate a Pig in Go-Go Boots

Above them, Jack and Ianto could hear Miss Piggy dogging tight the hatch of Jack's sleeping quarters, apparently not content with the theatricality of her grand exit. She talked indignantly to herself as she spun the wheel, the bolt rattling home. 

Jack turned to Ianto, a quip ready on his lips, but Ianto cut him off, his eyes still on the ceiling hatch. "You didn't tell her." 

Jack winced. "She's not from around here. I didn't think I had to." 

"She's not from wherever it is you're from, either. If I hadn't met John Hart, Jack, I would wonder if anyone was." 

Jack grimaced. "Ianto…" 

Ianto looked at Jack. He looked tired, more of his age showing than it usually did. Ianto tried to smile, but it didn't take. "She'll come around eventually," he lied. "I did." 

Jack shrugged, trying for casual, but his unhappiness was clear in the gesture. "Her choice to make." 

Ianto nodded, but stepped back when Jack reached for him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going home." 

"Ianto, stay. Please." 

"Even you would have to admit that was something of a mood-killer, Jack." He touched the knot of his tie, checking its straightness. "And if you don't mind, I'm going to go out by the second exit." He paused. "I presume there is a second exit?" 

Jack hesitated, then opened his wardrobe door. Ianto laughed. "You're such a romantic." He gave his lover a long kiss, trying to reassure him of the things they seldom said. "This had better open onto Cardiff," he warned. Then pushing aside the neat rows of blue shirts and gray trousers, Ianto stepped through the wardrobe. 

  

It was just as well that Jack's sleeping quarters had a second exit, as Jack discovered the next morning when he climbed the ladder and tried to undog the hatch: Miss Piggy had jammed the wheel closed. Jack grinned ruefully as he clung to the ladder by one elbow, testing his weight against the mechanism: there was a reason he liked her. 

Jack allowed himself to enjoy Miss Piggy's surprised look when he sauntered into the Hub from the tourist shack entrance. He gave her an easygoing smile, carefully scrubbing it of any cockiness. Ianto had been correct, Jack should have told her. He would give this one to her. 

Within a few hours, it became clear how Miss Piggy had decided she would deal with the night before: she buddied up with Owen, the two of them intent on becoming the wondertwins of bitchiness. Jack would almost be amused, if he wasn’t the target. Fortunately, Miss Piggy didn't go so far as to refuse an order outright. Owen had long ago discovered that insubordination was the one fault Jack had no tolerance for, and Miss Piggy was apparently cueing off him. Just to separate the two of them, Jack sent her out to do the footwork on a relatively minor Rift-fall. 

Gwen, also, seemed determined to make a nuisance of herself this morning, all big eyes and concerned looks. Early on, she joined Ianto on his balcony for one of their morning coffee and cattiness sessions, apparently deciding he was her quickest source of information, but Ianto quickly cut off her line of inquiry. Jack tried to telegraph a private _thank you_ across the room to Ianto, but Ianto pointedly turned his back. Jack had never learned the touch of easing Ianto out of a mood; the charm that he normally relied on only ever seemed to entrench Ianto's irritation. 

In fact, the only one in the Hub who seemed happy this morning—besides Owen, who was enjoying the opportunity to goad on Miss Piggy and thereby needle Jack—was Tosh. She hummed tunelessly to herself as she bent over her soldering iron, working on yet another project of hers and Strangepork's. 

  

Two days later, Jack and Ianto raced up the final flight of stairs, Jack's coat billowing as he took the turn on the landing. "What exactly did Gwen say?" 

"She just said the roof of the Altolusso. And to bring you." She had long since stopped responding to comms. 

Gun in hand, Jack threw his body against the roof access door. As they rushed through, Gwen turned to look at him, gesturing for him to stay back, to move gently. Hogthrob stood above and beyond her on the decorative girder-work extending out from the roof's highest level. His white satin cape snapped in the wind. Jack quickly assessed the rest of the roof—no apparent threats—then holstered his gun and joined Gwen. "He's threatening to jump?" 

"I swear to God, Jack, I had nothing to do with this. The constables found him, then Andy called me." 

The pig's voice drifted toward them. _"Betrayed by my loyal officers… stranded here on this desolate planet… forever…"_

Gwen shot Jack a significant look. 

Jack's jaw set. "Not my problem." 

"If he was threatening to jump, would it be your problem then?" Gwen asked. "What did you do for John Ellis besides hold his hand while he died?" 

"It was what he wanted! And just what is it you want from me anyway? I'm trying to keep that idiot from dying in the Rift. Is that not good enough for you?" 

"He doesn't care about dying! He cares about Swinefleet, and being a captain!" 

_"…twenty-two brave and stalwart crewpigs, decimated by snacko waves, and nothing I could do to save them…"_

Jack's jaw twitched. "Get him down from there." He turned away from Gwen to find himself face-to-face with Ianto. 

"Absolutely, sir." Ianto's face was bland. "This is your brooding roof. You found it first." 

_"…Oh, the loneliness of command…"_ Hogthrob droned. _"The agony of responsibility!"_

"Best breeze in Cardiff up here," Ianto continued. "It'd be a pity to have to share it." 

Jack seemed to swell, looming over Ianto. Ianto looked back at him mildly. 

_"To think, I will never see the stars again!"_ the pig intoned. 

Abruptly, Jack's body language relaxed. "Well! That was invigorating. Always a pleasure, you two." His eyes were cold. "Get him down from there, before someone gets hurt." Jack stepped around Ianto, heading back for the penthouse. 

"Yes, sir. And I'll have the stairwells posted. 'No admittance; private roof. By order of Torchwood, Captain J—'" The penthouse door shut behind Jack. 

Gwen and Ianto watched the door in silence. "He'll have taken the SUV, you know," Gwen finally said. 

Ianto shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time." 

She looked back up at Hogthrob. "How are we going to get him down from there?" 

Ianto pulled a foil-wrapped package from his breast pocket. "Chocolate. Preferably dark." 

  

When Ianto and Gwen finally shepherded a morose Captain Hogthrob back to the Hub, Jack still hadn't returned. Two hours later, the man came swirling into the Hub, freshly showered and wearing a pristine shirt. Ianto grimaced, knowing what he'd find when Jack's laundry finally found its way to Ianto: suicide-by-Weevil. 

Tosh moved to intercept. "Jack! I've been trying to reach you all afternoon." 

Jack ignored her, dropping his coat on the rack. "Hogthrob, Strangepork, in my office. Piggy, too, this involves you as much as them." 

Miss Piggy sniffed, making a show of not jumping to his command. 

"Jack," Tosh persisted. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. Dr. Strangepork isn't here." 

Jack frowned and scanned the Hub. "He's not gone to that ship of theirs? I thought I said—" 

"He's gone to London. Torchwood One made him an offer." 

Jack's eyes snapped back to her. "Bloody hell, Tosh! Was it too much to ask that you keep him out of trouble?" 

Tosh flinched, but held her ground. "What did you expect me to do? Lock him in one of the cells?" 

"If you needed to, yes! It shouldn't even have come to that, with that soppy love affair you two had going." 

"Oh, Tosh," Gwen chided. "You didn't. I don't expect any better of Jack—" Jack and Miss Piggy voiced their protests, but Gwen pushed on over the top of them, "—but you? He's a pig!" 

"Julius is a gentleman." Tosh enunciated the words with dignity. 

"He struck me as a dirty old man, frankly," commented Owen. 

Tosh blushed, but couldn't hide the smile. "That, too. And don't try blaming me, Jack. Did you think that Julius would never notice you hadn't brought him on payroll? He's a scientist, not an idiot." 

"Dammitall, how did Torchwood One even know?" Jack asked, scanning the faces of his team. Gwen glared defiantly back at him. "Gwen Cooper." His voice dropped with threat. "We're having a talk when I get back." 

"If you can't be bothered to do what's right, Jack—" 

Jack walked past her, plucking his coat from the coatrack. 

"Where are you going?" Ianto asked. 

"London." If the swirl of Jack's coat mapped to his emotions, Jack was angry indeed. 

"This is exactly what you hired me for, Jack Harkness!" Gwen shouted at his back. "And you know it!" 

Jack glared at her. "Just try not to blow up the Hub before I get back. And no giving the planet away to aliens, either. Can you do that for me? Or is that asking for too much?" Jack fixed his gaze on each of them in turn. 

Even Owen was cowed enough to wait until Jack had swept out the door. "Yes, _Dad._ " 

  

Jack didn't return until the next day. In the meanwhile, Hogthrob claimed Ianto's coffee area as the best spot from which to declaim his loneliness and misery, and Ianto left it to him, content to retreat to his tourist shack with ordered-in Starbucks. The alliance between Owen and Miss Piggy finally broke when Owen began muttering at Hogthrob about pork sandwiches: some insults could not be ignored, after all. Even the air between Gwen and Tosh was strained. 

When Jack and Strangepork walked in, Strangepork took one long glance around the Hub, then went straight to Hogthrob on the balcony. "Linky, Linky, Linky," Strangepork soothed, patting his captain's arm. "Vat is zis I hear? Vy didn't you touch up one of those film crews around the city? Find yourself a nice space opera to star in? You know I alvays said you zhould go into show business." 

"Ohhhh!" moaned Hogthrob, "What use have I for tinsel stars, when I have seen the real thing?" 

"Ach, don't knock tinsel stars! Zey don't become sentient and try to kill you, for one zing!" Strangepork chided. 

"That was an isolated incident!" Hogthrob protested. 

"Of course it vas," Strangepork agreed. "Still, you vill haf your real stars. Captain Harkness has promised to get our ship flying again!" 

"Not flying," Jack corrected. "We don't have the resources to get the _Swinetrek_ flying. Besides, flying isn't what you need to get you home. I'm not convinced you're from this universe." 

Tosh started. "You're not putting them back into the Rift?" 

Jack shrugged, gruff. "I'm doing nothing; it's their choice. If they want to go back into the Rift, that's on them, not me." 

"Jack," Ianto warned, pitching his voice too quiet for the others to hear. "You know what happens when people go into the Rift. It's suicide, or as good as." 

Jack tilted his head at Ianto. "And being stranded here isn't?" _John Ellis,_ he didn't say. _Diane Holmes._

"You adjusted." 

"Do I have a choice?" Ianto looked away, remembering what Jack had spent the previous afternoon doing. Jack smiled crookedly, touching Ianto's hand. "Parts of it have been worth it," he reassured the younger man. 

"And what about destabilizing the Rift?" Owen asked. 

Ianto turned on Owen with sudden heat. "And when have you ever cared about destabilizing the Rift?" 

Jack put a restraining hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Dr. Strangepork and I were talking; there might be a way to mitigate the risk. We'll figure something out." 

"I haf ideas!" Strangepork called down from the balcony. "Dr. Sato, remember the multi-reality polarization field effect we discovered?" He started down the stairs to join her at her workbench. 

Tosh frowned. "Oh, no. At best, that would get you to the right universe. Maybe. It depends on what the internal Rift geometry is like, and if there are anything that passes for currents in there. But even so, that wasn't re-entry damage on the _Swinetrek._ You arrived already on fire." 

"Ah, and zat's where the petrificatitron field comes in!" He plucked a piece of scratchpaper from her desk and began sketching. 

_"Excusez-moi,"_ Miss Piggy said to the Hub at large, "but I don't trust that science twit as far as I could throw him." She flounced her way over to Strangepork and Tosh, craning to see Strangepork's sketch. A second later, her voice rang out. "That's an idiotic idea, you numbskull!" 

Hogthrob took no interest in the proceedings at Tosh's bench, but instead meticulously inspected his uniform for loose threads. Owen shook his head. "Look at him. Total B Ark. Why are we even bothering with a ship? Give him a rubber duckie, put him in a bathtub and shove it into the Rift." 

"Because there are others planning on going with him," Jack said quietly. He watched Miss Piggy's blonde curls, where she was spiritedly berating Tosh. Tosh sighed and took a fresh sheet of paper. Miss Piggy snatched the pencil from her hand. 

Jack started when Ianto touched his forearm. Jack met his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath. He glanced around the room, his gaze settling on Gwen. 

His lips curved in a grim smile. "Gwen. My office. _Now."_

  

It took a week for Tosh and Strangepork to come up with a plan that Jack didn't veto—for all that he said it was the pigs' decision, there was yet a level of foolhardiness that even he wouldn't sign off on. Now with the arrangements nearly finished, Jack was more than ready to have the pigs gone: Hogthrob was irritation itself, and Strangepork had repayed Jack's generosity in returning their ship by trying to seduce Tosh away from Cardiff. 

"Oh, you should see Torchwood One," Strangepork rhapsodized. "More money zan zey can shake a stick at! I've never seen such a beautiful lab!" 

Tosh shrugged, not meeting his eye. "I like fieldwork. I wouldn't want to be stuck in a lab all the time." 

"Ah, but zey don't haf anyone as good as you! You could vrite your own ticket. Split your time between the lab and the field, if you vanted." 

Tosh laughed. "Since when did you become such a Torchwood One booster?" 

"You zell yourself short. You're meant for greater zings." 

Tosh glanced at Jack, catching his eye. "I owe Jack." 

The pig patted Tosh's arm. "Eh. You can do better zan zat one." 

Tosh just laughed. 

Miss Piggy split her official time between Torchwood-specific missions and getting the _Swinetrek_ Rift-ready, but her principal hobby appeared to be doing whatever she could to torment Jack. To Jack's chagrin, she was proving successful. Jack Harkness usually fell out of love and into vague affection with the same quicksilver ease as he fell into love in the first place—it was one of the perks of being Jack Harkness—but sometimes he got stuck. In Jack's opinion, Miss Piggy's efforts to torment him was the only bright spot in the mess between them: if she had moved on already as she claimed, Jack told himself, she wouldn't be bothering. 

It was a thin string to hang hope on, and yet Jack did. 

  

Owen shook his head as they stood in the field where the _Swinetrek_ had crash-landed the month before. "Rube Goldberg would be proud." 

Tosh shook her head. "It's not as bad as it looks. I've simulated the cumulative failure rate, and it's really no worse than any other multi-component—" 

"Tosh," Owen interrupted her. "I really don't care." 

"You okay, Tosh?" Gwen glanced pointedly toward where Dr. Strangepork was fussing over a mechanism. 

"It was a fling, Gwen. Not some epic star-crossed love affair. Really." 

Gwen had the grace to look abashed. "I just thought, heading off into the Rift, with who knows what in store for them…" 

Tosh laughed. "We work for Torchwood. Their chances are no worse than ours. Besides, even if I was nursing a flame for Julius, his heart lies with his captain." She nodded at Hogthrob, who was standing to the side, well out of the mud. "Or hadn't you noticed?" 

"I noticed," Jack volunteered, joining them. "And I've got to question his taste, passing over you for him." 

Tosh rolled her eyes, but smiled. 

Whatever Jack was going to say next died as Miss Piggy and Ianto got out of their SUV. Ianto had paired his usual suit with Wellingtons, but Miss Piggy was wearing the uniform Jack had first seen her in: her lavender lamé minidress, epaulets on her shoulders and the Swinefleet logo across her breast. Jack's stomach went to ice. He hurried down to help her across the mud—her white go-go boots had never been designed for _terra_ not-so- _firma_ —but she turned up her snout and took Ianto's hand instead. Ianto handed her across the muddy field to where Owen and the others stood, then took one of the final launch components downfield to the _Swinetrek._

The send-off ceremony was little more than a re-christening. Miss Piggy— _no, First Mate Piggy now_ , Jack corrected himself—sang the Swinefleet anthem. Her performance could charitably have been called pitchy, but Jack refused to give Owen the satisfaction of meeting his eye. Throughout the song, Jack tried to shake off the sense-memory of Miss Piggy pressed up against him in a dark alleyway, that very same lavender lamé scratching at his skin, her patent leather boots wrapped around his hips. 

When the time came for the pigs to board, Hogthrob and Strangepork making dirty jokes about who or what awaited them among the stars, First Mate Piggy kissed both pigs on the jowl, wished them a _bon voyage,_ then stood back among the other Torchwood members. Jack forgot what he was doing, and simply stared. With a bemused smile, Gwen nudged him aside and took over the launch coordination. At her direction, Ianto performed the final synchronization check, Owen threw a switch, and a blinding glare erupted from where the _Swinetrek_ lay. 

When Jack's vision came back, the _Swinetrek_ was gone. Jack fingered his gun—long experience with the Rift told him to expect something nasty in exchange—but the field lay quiet and empty. Bucolic, even. 

"Rift energy levels are holding," Tosh called. "Holding and… there we go, falling." She looked up. "This is only preliminary, of course, but it looks like Julius's idea was sound. We might have gotten away with it." 

"Touch wood," Owen instructed. Ianto looked at him askance, but Owen defended himself, "I'll be superstitious if I want. Can't say the Rift doesn't invite it." 

Jack came to stand next to Miss Piggy, conspicuously out of place in her glittering lamé against the sober Welsh countryside. 

"You didn't go with them." 

"And spend the rest of my career doing their laundry? Not even the stars are worth that, buster." 

Ianto cleared his throat. "I believe we were expecting something different when you showed up in uniform." 

Miss Piggy blushed. "We're Swinefleet. Those twits deserve everything that is waiting for them inside the Rift, but…" She paused, looking down at her insginia. She shrugged. "It meant something to me, once." 

Jack smiled wryly. "Remind me to tell you about the Time Agency sometime. May I give you a ride back to the Hub?" 

Miss Piggy pushed her curls back over her shoulder, deliberately looking away from Jack. "I'll ride with Ianto." 

  

Jack was trying to settle into paperwork when Miss Piggy knocked on his office door. She had changed back out of her Swinefleet uniform into a sharply cut black suit that showed off her legs and a touch of cleavage. She kicked the door shut behind her. 

"Miss Piggy!" Jack grinned. He walked around to sit on the front edge of his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

Miss Piggy's smile was all ice. "This." She pressed an envelope with the Torchwood insignia against Jack's chest. 

Jack gave her an amused look but took the envelope, gliding a caress over her hand as he did so. To his pleasure, she didn't shake it off. He tore the envelope open, and unfolded the letter. A few seconds later, he frowned. "This says…" 

"Transfer to Torchwood One," she smiled. 

"Oh, no," he said. "Absolutely not. There is no way that I'm going to let—" 

"You don't get a choice." She leaned in close. "You should listen better, _mon capitaine,_ because I already told you once: _I'm staying."_ She stood back and resettled her hair around her shoulders. "And _moi_ is going to make _vous_ regret the day you were born." 

  

**...tune in next week, when we hear Agent Piggy say, "It takes more than a little extradimensional sleight-of-hand to impress _me,_ Mr. It's-Bigger-On-the-Inside."**


End file.
